Curled, vulnerable, in an attempt at decompression.
Guitars dancing. Familiarity softens the scratchy voice.
Teeth clamped on skin. Nose dipped into water, blowing bubbles. A direct effect of action.
In the face of small success, my concern is how I could have been better.
When success shines bright enough to wrap around my eyesight until I’m blind, will I be happy? I ask how much I have to sacrifice to feel joy. Will my bathtub melodies be a piece of my day or the highlight?
One day, someday, I will see that I am a success and I can never be small or dim.